Videotape

Chapter 1

For a girl who had her entire life ahead of her, I certainly thought about dying a lot. It wasn't something foreign to me; though I'd never been able to explain or even fully grasp why I had these thoughts, I'd had them since I was little, maybe five or six years old. I was fourteen now, sitting at my desk in my biology class, absently staring out the window as I contemplated what it would be like to tumble out of it and fall to the asphalt of the parking lot two long stories below.

"Ase, are you okay?"

My train of thought came to a skidding halt at the sound of my friend Gabriela's voice from beside me. I blinked, disoriented, as I was thrown back to reality. "Yeah," I replied, "sorry, Gabs. I don't mean to zone out like that."

"Don't worry about it," Gabby said. "I know you have a lot on your mind. Anyway, did we have homework last night? If we did, I'm screwed."

I shook my head, and Gabby sighed in relief. "Thank God."

I turned back to the window.

"Ase," Gabby said, "are you sure you're okay? You're doing it even more than usual."

"What, zoning out?"

"Well, yeah," Gabby replied, "and I've noticed other things, too. You haven't shown up to band or choir practice for a while now, and you've fallen asleep in class more times than I can count."

"It's just my medication, I think," I said. "I had my dose increased last week, and my body's still trying to adjust. As for band and choir...well, I'm thinking about dropping it. I kind of just want to focus on my solo work. Photography, too. Those things are more important to me right now."

Gabby looked taken aback. "You're dropping band and choir?"

"I said I was thinking about it."

"I know, I know, it's just..." she trailed off. "Wow. I never thought you'd even think about doing something like that."

I shrugged. "It's really not that big of a deal."

Gabby sighed. "You worry me sometimes."

I didn't bother answering. I simply allowed my gaze to land back on the window, where it stayed for the remainder of the class period.

Today had sucked even more than usual. I'd been called a dyke by three different people on my way from biology to P.E. and pushed into a wall by a fourth. I knew I shouldn't have trimmed my hair the day before, but my split ends had been driving me crazy, and I had paid for it today. Oh, well. It'd blow over by the end of the week. Still, the bruise on my shoulder absolutely killed. P.E. itself was even worse; we were in the middle of the lacrosse unit, and I was absolutely horrible at it. I was put on a temporary team with seven other people, one of which was the girl who had pushed me into the wall. It had taken everything in me to hide my near-paralyzing anxiety for the entirety of class.

Lunch had sucked, too. That was nothing new. I swear, the food was made out of cardboard at my school. At least my friends were there. They always seemed to make everything a little more tolerable. However, by the time geometry came around, I was utterly spent. I fell asleep twice in class by the time school was over.

Therapy was okay, I guess. It was always nice to get my everyday issues off my chest. As an added bonus, my therapist, Dr. Fisher, was an absolute saint.

As soon as I got home, I dropped my belongings by the door, not bothering to do my Spanish and English worksheets. I could do them before school in the morning, when I had more energy. I laid in bed for a while and listened to Radiohead through my old MP3 player, finally able to lose myself in the sweet sound of Thom Yorke's voice after the struggles of the day. Radiohead had been my favorite band for as long as I could remember; some of my earliest memories were of sitting with my older brother Felix in his room, listening to their CDs together. Since then, they'd never failed to lift my spirits and get me through even my hardest days. I certainly hoped that would last, considering that each day seemed to get harder and harder as of lately.

There was a knock at my door. "Ase?"

I paused my music. "Come in," I said, and my mother opened the door and entered my room.

"You don't look so good," my mom said as she walked up to the side of my bed. "Are you feeling okay?"

I let out a low, artificial laugh. "Everyone's asking me that now," I said, shaking my head. "I'm fine, just tired."

My mother raised her eyebrows, then let out a long sigh. "Alright, then," she said. "I just came to tell you that dinner's ready. I'll see you downstairs in a minute?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

"Alright."

I wondered if I'd choke.